


Happy accidents

by Hexrot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Minerva McGonagall, Death Eaters, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, My First Fanfic, Other, Past Child Abuse, Protective Remus Lupin, Secret Identity, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange Parenting Peter Parker | Supremefamily | Strange Family, sandman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24293590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexrot/pseuds/Hexrot
Summary: When Harry is left at the Dursley's again, his body has had enough. Teleported to another country, into another boy's house, how will they fare as they realize that the other carries dangerous secrets with them? And how will they help each other face their enemies?
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Steve Rogers/Thor, Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson, Peter Parker/Harry Potter, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 7
Kudos: 148





	Happy accidents

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So, this is my first fanfic ever, I haven't written anything before :)
> 
> My first language is not English, so please point out any mistakes (I don't have a beta either, obviously.)  
> Anyways, enjoy it! I'll try to write new chapters as fast as I can.

Harry was sleeping. Well, you couldn’t really call it sleeping, since he mostly just trashed and tossed around on his dirty old cot.

Sleep had rarely come to him these days. Especially with the Dursleys hanging over his head, and the memories of Sirius and Cedric weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Fuck, why couldn’t he just close his eyes and drop dead? Why did everything have to be so bloody hard? Why couldn’t he just time a nap like a normally functioning human?

Maybe it was the burning ache coursing through his body. He had been doing his chores for a whole day long, after all. No, it was almost a whole month now. Fat lot of good it did him. It didn’t matter how many chores he did perfectly, it only mattered which ones he didn’t do. And Uncle Vernon would always just point out a mistake, or make one himself so he had an excuse to beat the useless freak.

Or perhaps it was because he kept thinking back to what happened at the Triwizard tournament. Cedric didn’t deserve to die. If someone had to, it should’ve been him. This all wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let Pettigrew escape in his third year.

Okay, no. Stop thinking about those things. Think about sleep. About relaxing things. The feeling of a weighty duvet surrounding you, the feeling of waking up in a sunlit room, dust particles visible in the welcoming rays of light. Yes, sleep...

Oh, never mind. He could see the sun rising through his small barred window already. Just his luck. Not even a wink of rest then.

Harry wondered what time it was. It was certainly somewhere past half 4, but no later than 6, or aunt Petunia would’ve ‘woken’ him up already. Guess he would just have to lay around a bit. Alone with his thoughts. So alone…

No. He wasn’t alone. Ron and Hermione said they would always have his back. They even said they would write letters to him! And Dumbledore swore that he would be safe in this trice damned house. If only those letters would actually arrive…

Oh. He heard a sound. Footsteps stomping up the stairs. No, that couldn’t be, aunt Petunia hadn’t even called him yet! How was Uncle Vernon already awake? The walrus of a man normally didn’t wake up until nine!

The footsteps stopped right before his door. He could feel the malicious presence of his uncle looming behind his rickety door. If I die today, please let it be quick, he prayed.  
He had a feeling that it wouldn’t be that easy.

The door swung open slowly, it’s hinges creaking like even the rusted metal was afraid of what was to come. His uncle stood there, towering behind the doorpost with a vicious, angry gleam in his eyes, pants coming from his mouth like an angry bull.

Oh shit, Harry thought, he’s really pissed. His uncle moved until he was right in front of his makeshift cot. Harry was frozen, all his muscles locked and tense. Harry could hear an intake of breath, and then the expected outburst followed, “BOY!”, he roared. Harry flinched out of his stupor. He immediately scrambled out of his bed, moving as fast as he could to the door. He was, however, too slow. He could feel his ankle getting grabbed from behind. He was too late.

“This is the fourth time you’ve not got your lazy arse outside of this door when we ask you! We give you a home, clothes around your freaky little body, food that you steal from our own child. And what do you do? You don’t even do the tasks we give you!” Vernon yanked him back to his bed, hitting his head on the floor in the process. Hard.

He vaguely thought that Vernon was making up excuses because he sure as hell hadn’t heard any orders from Vernon today. Harry was dazed, a fog surrounding his mind. Because of this, he didn’t notice it when he got dragged onto his bed and his uncle removed his belt from his pants. Only when he heard the metallic click of the buckle did he realize what his Uncle was going to do. He tried moving again, but the only reaction his body gave was a wave of nausea and a throb from his bruised ankle. 

“That'll teach you not to disobey me again. No food for a least three days, and you’ll be sorry if you come out of this room anytime you’re not supposed to!”

Harry heard the swish of the makeshift whip in the air, and then the unbearable pain of his skin being split in two. He could already feel blood welling on his back, and bit the pillow under him to keep from screaming. He was not going to give Vernon that pleasure.

Another blow fell, and Harry could see stars in front of his eyes. His back was burning, but Vernon just began going faster, lading blow after blow on his starved being. Vernon had never gone this hard on him. He’d been slapped around a bit, yes, and he might have broken a few bones during his summers, but he felt that Vernon truly wasn’t going to hold back this time. This was almost as bad as that time he accidentally set fire to one of Dudley’s toys in a bout of jealousy. Another blow fell, and Harry felt he was on the verge of passing out.

Suddenly, the blows began coming slower as Vernon was getting exhausted. They still came just as hard though. It felt like his back was a war front. Was there any skin left unscathed? It sure didn’t feel like it. He might have already had scars from previous whippings, but he had prided himself on the places he didn’t have scars. Now he didn’t think he had anything left to be proud of.

The leather snake stopped attacking him. Harry just moaned feebly in response, his body trembling from the damage caused to him. He didn’t dare remove his weeping face from his meager pillow, afraid that Vernon might see it as a sign of defiance. He could feel warm, wet waves rolling down his back.

He heard Vernon putting his belt back on with much less ease than when he was taking it off.  
There was silence for a few moments, Harry’s face still pressed into his pillow, afraid to even breathe.

“Now listen boy, me, Petunia and Duddykins are going to France for a week. If I see that even the slightest bit of food is gone from the pantry, you won’t be making it to your freak school this year. Do. You. Understand?”

Harry could feel his Uncle looming over his flaming back. He nodded weakly. 

His Uncle turned around, on the verge of leaving. Just as he passed the door frame, he stopped. Harry felt paralyzed with fear. 

Vernon stormed back in and kicked him in the ribs a few times for good measure.

Harry felt defeated, defiled. How could he have believed Ron and Hermione? Ever since he had told them about what went on in his so-called ‘home’, they had left him to rot. He began crying again.

Still sobbing on the floor, he was unaware of his magic reacting to his violent urges of leaving this house. Before he could try to stand up again, he felt himself getting queasy. The kind of feeling he had when using a Portkey. He got scared for a split second. What if one of Voldemort’s lackeys had convinced Vernon to give him over to the Dark Lord? 

But it was too late, he had already begun to teleport to his unknown destination. Harry was scared of what was to come.

\-------------

Peter was sooo tired. He had been chasing some ATM crackers last night and only went to sleep at 4 am. Just as he was about to lay down, ready for a delicious 3-hour nap, he shot back up.

Heck! I have a physics test tomorrow!

Sighing with disappointment, he heaved himself out of bed, in a beeline to his desk.

Guess I’ll just take a quick nap during lunch.

Suddenly, a big crash resounded in his room. Peter jolted wide awake. He had knocked over his stack of books.

Crap! There’s no way Aunt May didn’t hear that!

Scrambling over his feet, Peter looked for an excuse. Aha!  
He saw a glass standing on his nightstand. He shot it from its position into his hand.

Aunt May opened the door slowly just as the glass smacked his palm.

“Peter? Are you alright honey?”

Peter showed off his glass. “Sorry Aunt May, I was going to grab some water and I tripped over my books!”

May looked at him with an amused, exasperated expression.

“Alright sweetie, just don’t do it again. We don’t get enough sleep already, no need to worsen the problem!”, she said as she closed the door, laughing softly.

When the door finally clicked closed, Peter let out a sigh of relief.

Phew! Almost got caught there!

Looking around for a bit before going back to his desk, he noticed his suit was still visible from the angle he was standing at.

He goes to the bottom right post of his bed, meaning to fix it before someone sees it.  
As he is kneeling down, stuffing it back into its hiding place.

BAM!

Peter almost jumped onto the ceiling out of fear. That sound was way louder than his books!

Peter spun around, almost paralyzed in fear.

Is someone breaking in? Are they shooting?

Oh, no, it’s something else. He thought as he spotted a shivering bundle of rags lying next to his window.

What could it be? Did an overgrown stray dog jump into his room?

No, that’s impossible. My room is not ground level!

Peter slowly crept up to the creature, cautious not to scare it.

“Hey? Little buddy?”, Peter whispered, feeling as afraid as the thing laying before him.

The creature jerked, whipping its head towards him.

Oh. Oooh no. What is this? Why? Peter was panicking.

It wasn’t an animal, it was a human. One with big glasses and glowing green eyes glaring towards him.

“Who are you?”, the boy asked in a tiny, scratchy voice.

“Umm, I’m… Peter? W-who... are you?”, Peter stammered, taken aback by his voice.

“I’m… Harry”. He responded, not relaxing any because of the answer.

“Um, okay, Harry. What are you, umm, doing in my room?”, Peter asked, feeling slightly ridiculous for asking the question.

“...”, Harry stared at him for a few seconds. “...I-I don’t know what I’m doing here. Hell, I don’t even know how I got here.” He frowned, seemingly sinking into his thoughts.

“Well, you kind of… teleported in here?”, Peter told him in a disbelieving tone.

“Umm, okay… Then, where exactly is this place?” Harry asked, looking around questionably, searching for clues to the whereabouts of his current location.

“Well, this is my aunt’s house, and we’re in Ingram Street right now.”, Peter said, hoping it would soothe the boy’s anxiety.

Harry looked even more confused than before. “You mean we’re in Glasgow?”

“What? No, this is New York. I live in Queens.” Peter answered, also getting confused.

Harry stared out the window for a little. “Oh…”. He looked as if he was about to jump out of his window to make a run for it.

“... Would you like to stay here for the night? I have a spare mattress and a few blankets.” Peter questioned, hoping Harry wouldn’t just bolt out of the house before he could offer anything. 

Harry hesitated for a moment, before relaxing slightly. “Thank you. that would be great, yes.”

Peter felt relieved, but still on edge.

“Okay, I’ll get your stuff. Please don’t make a run for it.” Peter said, walking toward the right part of a wardrobe he never used.

He softly threw an old mattress toward Harry, hurling a few blankets his way, too. 

“So… I have school tomorrow, and I don’t want to miss any classes, but I trust that we can talk in the morning, right? About… all this stuff.”, Peter gestured between the two of them vaguely.

“Um… That’s fine for me, I guess.”, Harry said, looking as tired as a sailor that had stood on the lookout for three days.

“Well… Goodnight, then.” Peter whispered.

He lay down in his bed, ready to forget about everything until the next morning.

Almost asleep, he heard a tiny voice whisper, “Goodnight.”


End file.
